


What a Bright Time (Lethal Weapon)

by LSquared80



Series: Merry and Bright [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Detectives, F/M, Jaime hates the holidays, Mentions deaths of Cersei and her children, Suicidal Thoughts, lethal weapon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Detective Jaime Lannister hates the holidays even more than his partner, Brienne Tarth, hates him.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Merry and Bright [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564570
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	What a Bright Time (Lethal Weapon)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 3rd entry in my series of holiday-themed stories. I have always considered the original Lethal Weapon movie one that is, if anything, Christmas-adjacent. Time period doesn't play a role in the story, but I was imagining the mid-80s and no cell phones or fancy technology. 
> 
> I love writing holiday themed stories and the time between now and December 25th is my favorite time of year, but I'm not a religious person. That is the type of Christmas that exists here since it obviously doesn't fit in with the theology of the GoT universe. For this alternate and modern world, Christmas is more about the time of year and traditions than any type of religious observance.

The interior of the Evenfall police precinct was decorated for the holidays in a way that made Detective Jaime Lannister irrationally angry. Every morning he swatted at the garland framing the main entrance and found a way to tip over the small Christmas tree his partner kept on her desk. 

He’d been working with Detective Brienne Tarth for eight weeks and she had requested to be paired with someone else at least twelve times by Jaime’s count. She was a rule follower and found him to be “repugnant, unprofessional, and dangerously unhinged.” It didn’t help that he’d mistaken her for a man the first time they met. To his defense, the nameplate on her desk read only _B. Tarth_ , she was several inches taller than him, her already short hair had been concealed under a beanie, and she hid any trace of womanly curves under loose, boxy pantsuits. 

Brienne disliked, among other things, Jaime’s penchant for being late, being drunk, and being petulant. But he knew his partner had decided to hate him before they’d even met. He was transferred – after a leave of absence – because of an incident with his Captain in King’s Landing. Jaime’s file described a heated argument that turned violent and left Captain Aerys Targaryen permanently incapacitated by a brain injury. The deaths of Jaime’s sister and her children in a fire prior to the incident was only a footnote. 

“Lannister!” 

Jaime snapped out of his reverie and dropped his feet from the top of his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and reached to the back for a flask of vodka. Bending, he took a swig before standing from his seat and kicking the drawer shut. He caught the way Brienne glared at him with blatant disgust and, for the second time that day, “accidentally” bumped her Christmas tree with his elbow. 

“Sorry, Tarth,” he said as he made the short walk to Captain Seaworth’s corner office, stopping to turn off the radio on Officer Gendry’s desk to quiet the cheerful carols emanating from the speakers – he couldn’t stand to hear _Jingle Bell Rock_ one more time. He leaned against the doorway of the office, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and asked, “What did I do now?” 

Davos Seaworth waved him inside and gestured to the seat across from him, but Jaime remained standing with his arms crossed. “I came in this morning to find this,” the captain said, picking up a piece of paper. “Another request from Tarth to be reassigned. There will come a time I can’t convince her to retract the request.” 

Jaime shrugged. “Fine. I’d rather not be paired with such a goody two-shoes, tight-ass beast anyway.” 

Davos prickled at Jaime’s language. He stood up and mirrored his detective’s posture. “The problem is, Lannister, the things you hate about Tarth are the reasons I put the two of you together. You need a babysitter. Besides, no one else wants to be stuck with you either.” 

There was a long beat of silence before Jaime forced a laugh. He pointed to the form Brienne had completed and signed and asked, “What was her reason this time?” 

“She said you made inappropriate comments about her sexual history.” 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “She was in love with _Renly Baratheon_.” 

Davos rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, Lannister. This is serious. I could get in trouble for brushing this under the table. This is your last chance. She’s agreed to withdraw the complaint if you apologize – sincerely – right now.” 

“Fine,” Jaime groaned. 

“Make an effort. She’s a good detective, Lannister. And a good person. It would behoove you to make friends with her.” 

He scoffed before turning and exiting the office. He marched back to their desks – cruelly pushed together so that he had to see her face every time he looked up – to find her seat empty. He glanced around before asking the nearest person, “Do you know where she went?” 

“To the car.” 

* 

Jaime opened the doors to exit the building but backtracked. He plucked a red carnation from a boquet of flowers on the receptionist's desk and then took his leave. He walked across the parking lot to where Brienne stood, leaning against the hood of their unmarked sedan. “For you, my lady,” he said, extending the single flower toward her. 

She looked at it with disdain before lifting her eyes to his face. "We have a scene to get to,” she told him. 

“I’m sorry, Tarth. Truly. My Christmas gift to you is that I’ll be well-behaved.” 

“You’ll stop needling me about Renly?” she asked. 

Jaime nodded. 

Brienne said, “I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yes, I’ll stop needling you about Renly.” 

“And you will stop inquiring about the status of my virginity?” 

Jaime’s eyes widened. “So, you are a vir-” He stopped himself and said, “Yes, I will stop trying to find out whether or not you’ve ever had sex with another person.” 

“And you’ll stop going after armed suspects without backup?” 

Jaime faltered. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said, but when she made a move to turn and march back into the precinct, he amended his answer. “Okay. Yes. No more reckless behavior.” 

“Good,” Brienne said. “Now can we get to work?” 

He nodded as she walked around to the driver’s side. She never let him drive. “What’s on the menu for today? Stabbing? Drug deal gone wrong?” 

“Arson,” she said flatly. 

Jaime paused before climbing into the passenger seat. _Arson_. His senses shut down – he couldn’t hear Brienne calling for him to hurry; the world around him was black. 

“Lannister... Lannister... Jaime!” She pounded her hand on the hood of the car. 

He snapped out of his daze, pale with beads of sweat shining above his brow. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

* 

Jaime recognized the street name as it crackled over the radio. His stomach clenched as Brienne made the final turn and approached the huddle of fire and rescue trucks, and the morgue van parked in the driveway of a house charred to a crisp. “Selmy,” he whispered. 

“What?” Brienne asked as she parked in the street. 

He dragged a hand down his face as if he could wipe away the lack of color and the look of dread. “I, uh, know this house. Do you know the name of our victim?” 

She shook her head. 

Jaime climbed out of the car and heard Brienne’s footfalls catch up behind him. They flashed their badges and a uniformed officer lifted the yellow tape for them to pass under. A woman Jaime recognized was weeping on the grass, comforted by two other people. The first cop on the scene stood near the porch and waved them into the house. “Victim is Barristan Selmy,” the cop said. 

Brienne looked sideways at her partner for a reaction. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and as they followed the cop further into the house, she whispered, “You know him?” 

He nodded. “Was my Lieutenant back in the day. That was his wife outside. Evelyn, I think.” 

“You going to be okay?” she asked. 

Jaime nodded. “I’m fine,” he snapped, but couldn’t climb the staircase. He saw the burn pattern on the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. Images flashed behind his eyes of running toward the home he shared with his sister and her children, praying they were not trapped in the flames that swallowed the structure whole. He could smell the gasoline and charred wood and flesh and his stomach turned. When he opened his eyes, Brienne was at the top of the staircase looking down at him. “This one is all you, Tarth,” he said, turning to run and empty the contents of his stomach. 

* 

“What the fuck was that, Lannister?” Brienne yelled as she climbed into the car following a detailed walk-through of the scene. 

Jaime took a drag from the cigarette he was smoking. “Conflict of interest,” he said, his voice clear. Recovered. 

She leaned closer to him, sniffing the air. “Is that what you call bourbon?” 

He snorted a laugh. “I told you, I knew him.” 

“How well? When was the last time you saw him?” 

“So, I’m a suspect now?” he barked. 

Brienne covered her face with her hands. After a moment she turned the key in the ignition. The radio blasted a raucous tune that clashed with their present, dire situation. _What a bright time, it's the right time, to rock the night away. Jingle bell time-_

Jaime reached forward and turned the volume down until it was silent. 

“You just promised to behave well,” she reminded him. 

“I promised not to give you shit for your sex life or lack thereof. I’ve been quite good.” He tossed the cigarette out the window and lit another as she peeled down the street. 

* 

Brienne detailed the scene to Davos, glaring at Jaime every time he chimed in as if he’d been through the house with her. She gave him ample opportunities to reveal his ties to the victim, but ultimately had to bring it up herself. 

“You worked with him in King’s Landing?” Davos asked for clarification. 

Jaime nodded. “He moved here after he retired.” 

“You were close? Stayed in touch?” 

“Nah,” Jaime shrugged. “I mean, I knew he lived here, so I had looked him up when I transferred. Stopped by once but no one was home.” 

Davos considered the information before ultimately deciding Jaime could work the case. “The wife is on her way in.” 

Brienne looked at her partner. “I’ll start a pot of coffee,” she said, walking out and to the small kitchen. By the time she returned to her desk, Jaime’s chair was empty and pushed in. She circled around the precinct and opened the door to the men’s restroom, calling for him. She jogged to the parking lot and saw that his motorcycle was gone. “Fuck you, Lannister,” she shouted into the void. 

* 

The morning sun poured in through the windows. Brienne had started her day with a run and a hearty breakfast. She was ready to dig into the arson case, but her partner was late. Again. She retreated to the kitchen, hoping by the time she warmed her coffee he would be there. 

“Turn it up,” Brienne said as she passed by Gendry’s desk, recognizing the first strains of her favorite Christmas carol. She laughed when the young officer began singing, terribly off-key. Her cheer faded as she saw Jaime was still not there. 

She sat down and began sorting through her notes, the official police report, and what she had received from the arson investigator. A thorough review would determine if the case remained in homicide or not. From what Brienne had read and what Selmy’s widow had said during her interview the previous day, it was looking like an intentional fire meant to cause the man’s death. 

Every so often Brienne looked up from her notes to watch the door for Jaime. She inquired with Davos and the receptionist and dialed Jaime’s home phone number. Enraged and slightly alarmed, she decided to pay her partner a visit. 

* 

Brienne knew Jaime lived in a trailer on the beach, but what she saw looked more like the scene of a seedy drug bust than anyone’s home. The trailer was small with several broken windows. The white siding was stained and peeling. A large, black dog stood guard outside the door, barking loudly as she approached. 

“Hey, boy,” she said, bending to tentatively pet the top of his head. He calmed and sat down, giving her an opportunity to look at his tags. “Your name is Honor?” Brienne scoffed at the irony of the least honorable man she knew choosing such a name for his pet. 

She knocked on the door. It rattled in the frame but she heard no sounds from inside the trailer. She knocked and shouted, “Lannister!” Hesitating, she tugged on the door handle and found it was not locked. She opened the door and Honor ran in ahead of her. 

Brienne climbed the three stairs and groaned at what she saw – Jaime asleep on his stomach, one leg hanging over the side of the bed built into the farthest end of the trailer. The sheets were tangled around him, revealing he was sleeping in the nude. “Lannister, wake up,” she said, averting her gaze from his admittedly nice, muscled backside. She walked toward the bed and lifted her leg, nudging him with her foot. His lack of response became worrisome and Brienne bent down to give him a shake. 

“Mmm. Wha... go away,” Jaime grumbled. 

“Get up you lazy son of a bitch.” 

“Brienne?” he asked, his face still buried in a pillow. 

She heaved a sigh. “You are two hours late for work.” 

Jaime slowly rolled over and Brienne covered her eyes. He smirked. His voice was like gravel when he said, “Best not to look. It’ll ruin every other man for you.” 

“I should’ve known you’d be crass even before you fully wake up.” She turned around while she heard him put clothes on. Her eyes scanned the interior of the trailer, and she was overcome with a feeling of sadness. There were no personal effects. Only the basics a person needed to survive, and a lot of alcohol. It struck her as the kind of living situation an emotionally healthy person would only be able to stand for a night or two. Brienne’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes landed on a small table with an almost empty bottle of bourbon next to Jaime’s gun and several bottles of pills. 

He stood up behind her, following her line of sight. He charged around her, the side of his body brushing hers, and blocked the table. “Go outside.” 

Brienne hesitated. 

“I need a minute.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” She walked to the door, stopping when she noticed something tacked beneath a magnet on the fridge. She found what was probably Jaime’s only personal item – a strip of photo booth pictures of him surrounded by two young boys and a girl. 

* 

“I clean up well, don’t I?” Jaime asked as they walked into the precinct. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. He had combed his hair and shaved and went from looking like an attractive, hungover mess to an attractive model on the cover of a men’s magazine. 

He smiled at the way she blushed. 

They sat down at their desks and Brienne caught him up. “Gendry is researching other suspicious fires in the area and off the island,” she said. She showed him pictures of the inside of the house and Jaime excused himself to get a glass of water. 

“This bothers you,” she said when he returned. 

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Of course. In the way any crime bothers me. But you seem-” 

She was interrupted when Gendry's shadow fell across their desks. The young man cleared his throat and crinkled a piece of paper in his hand. “I have that research you asked for,” he said. There was a long pause before he resumed. “Six months ago, there was a fire in Winterfell. There-” 

“Winterfell?” Jaime interrupted. “That’s too far away to be consid-” 

“Let him finish,” Brienne said. 

Gendry cleared his throat again. “Someone started a fire in the middle of the night. A house in Winterfell. No one died, but the accelerant was the same. No witnesses. No suspects. The owner of the house was a cop, too. Uh,” he looked down at the papers, “Eddard Stark.” 

Jaime stood up from his seat. He nearly lunged at Gendry to snatch the paper from the other man’s hand, turning it around to read for himself. 

“What is it?” Brienne asked carefully. 

“I know him.” 

* 

Jaime and Brienne worked the case for several days, and while he was more than willing to burn the midnight oil, she always insisted on calling it a day by six o’clock in the evening. 

“Hot date?” he asked. 

She glared at him, waiting for him to go too far. She was saved when her phone rang. “Detective Tarth,” Brienne answered. 

Jaime leaned back and stretched his legs out, propping his feet on his desk. If he tipped his foot slightly to the right, he would be able to knock her Christmas tree over. But he refrained, choosing instead to eavesdrop. 

“I’ll stop at the store,” she said. She listened for a moment, smiling. “No, it’s fine. I promised we’d make cookies.” She listened again and laughed before saying, “I love you too. I’ll be home soon.” 

Jaime watched as Brienne dropped the receiver onto the base. He smiled broadly. “Are you hiding a boyfriend at home?” 

“No,” was all she said. 

“A girlfriend?” he asked excitedly. He slammed his hand on the desk. “That would explain so much.” 

Brienne stared at him, her eyes sending a warning. “No.” She stood up. “I need to go. You staying?” 

He surveyed the mess on his desk. “You can’t go yet, Tarth.” 

“Yes, I can.” 

“Let’s order some food. My treat.” 

Brienne shook her head. “I have dinner plans already.” She started to walk away but stopped, turning back to face him. “Do you want to come to my house for dinner?” 

“I would rather stab my eyes out with this pen,” he said, picking up a blue ballpoint from his desk. 

She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight.” 

* 

The precinct was buzzing with gossip about Jaime’s connection to the arson cases in Evenfall and up North. Calls had been placed to Eddard Stark and nearly every detective in the precinct had gone into Captain Seaworth’s office to complain about the traitorous Lannister striking against their own again. 

Brienne listened to the complaints and looked at the facts. She had been just as incensed about Jaime’s transfer to Evenfall as everyone else, if not more, but for some reason she wasn’t having the same reaction as the others. 

When Davos left for the day, Brienne remarked that she’d been asked to finish a few reports for him, giving her a reason to be in the captain’s office. She closed the door and searched the cabinets until she found a file marked _Lannister, J._

The file was rather thick. To her surprise it was mostly commendations from early in Jaime’s career all the way up to the incident with Targaryen. She read letters and news articles praising him. Brienne reconsidered her snooping when she found several psychiatric reports on Jaime, but her eyes caught words like _suicidal thoughts_ and _PTSD_ and she kept reading. 

Brienne had to dig, but she learned that Jaime had moved in with his sister, Cersei, after her husband died suddenly. The three children mentioned must have been the two boys and a girl she saw in the photos on his fridge – Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. Ages ten, five, and seven. She held her breath as she read the details of their tragic deaths in a housefire. The file was missing the details of the case – arson or accidental, accelerant, burn patterns. But it shined a light on Jaime’s reaction as they arrived on the Selmy scene. 

The door squeaked open and she quickly slammed the file shut, hugging it to her chest. She relaxed at the sight of Gendry. “What’s up?” 

“Wondered if you’re hungry? Some of us were going to order pizza.” 

Brienne glanced at the clock. “No, thanks. I need to get home.” 

She put the file away and exited the office. “Hey,” she said to Jaime as she approached their desks, “if you don’t feel like pizza, I’m making spaghetti and meatballs. You could join me and my family.” He stared at her for so long that Brienne’s cheeks blazed pink and she regretted opening her mouth. 

“Uh, no, thanks. I think I’ll get some more work done.” 

She smiled. She bent down, taking the pen out of his hand, and wrote her address on a piece of paper. “Just in case.” 

* 

Jaime rode his motorcycle up a steep hill before he found Brienne’s house. She seemed to live at the highest point of the island. He could hear the waves crashing on the cliffs, and he wondered if she could look out her bedroom window and see the stretch of beach where his trailer was parked. 

The sprawling house was rather quaint despite its size. There was a long, winding porch. The exterior was white and as best he could tell in the dark, the shutters were painted a vibrant blue. There were several lights on inside the house, and strings of red and green lights hung from the porch and the roof. A wreath decorated the front door and decals of candy canes and snowflakes covered most of the windows. 

Jaime wondered about the family Brienne had mentioned. She never talked about anyone. Then again, neither did he. Their conversations revolved around his behavior, her stuffiness, and work. It was only recently she’d been oddly nice to him. 

He opened the storage compartment and removed the six pack of beer he’d bought on the way. Jaime had already stopped to drink one and he tore another can from the plastic rings, cracking it open. He guzzled as he stared at the house, never intending to go in. But the front door opened and he saw someone pointing, and then he saw Brienne’s tall silhouette. 

She opened the door. “Jaime?” she called out. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. He tilted his head back, draining most of the beer before climbing off the bike. He carried the remaining cans and jogged up to the porch. “Hey. Sorry. I, uh, guess I changed my mind.” 

Brienne smiled. “That’s fine. Come on in.” 

Jaime climbed the stairs and crossed the threshold. The interior of the house was bright in color and light. It smelled clean – like lemons and the ocean. He took a deep breath and caught a whiff of dinner cooking in the kitchen. 

“I’m Podrick,” a soft voice announced. 

Jaime realized the first figure he’d seen at the door was a young boy of thirteen or so. He was short with a round face and messy brown hair. “Hi, Podrick. I’m Jaime.” He extended his hand and the boy had a firm grasp. 

“Pod is my step-brother,” Brienne explained. 

Jaime followed them down a long hallway to the kitchen. A man even taller than Brienne stood from a seat at the table. 

“This is my father, Selwyn,” Brienne said. “Dad, this is my partner, Jaime Lannister.” 

Selwyn reached his hand out toward Jaime. “Nice to meet you, Jaime.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Tarth.” 

“Selwyn, please,” the older man said. 

Jaime looked down at what remained of his six pack of beer. He was embarrassed to offer one of the cans, and ashamed of the implication he’d already downed three on his own. He settled on discarding what was left on the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

* 

“This is not bad,” Jaime said, swirling more noodles around his fork and breaking into a large meatball. 

“Brienne was a chef in a past life,” Selwyn remarked. 

She demurred at the compliment but looked at Jaime and said, “Glad you like it.” 

“May I have more?” Podrick asked, and Brienne spooned a heap of pasta onto the boy’s plate. 

Jaime remained mostly silent, observing the small family’s dynamic and listening to their conversation – centering largely around Podrick’s homework and whether or not he could go ice skating with friends that weekend. His chest tightened as time passed, waiting with dread for someone to turn the focus on him. 

“So, Jaime, Brienne has said you transferred here from King’s Landing. Do you have family there?” Selwyn asked. 

Jaime dropped his fork and it clanked loudly against the edge of his plate. He wiped his napkin across his mouth, stalling, when Brienne jumped in and told her father, “Jaime grew up on Casterly Rock,” which led to a discussion of sailing the Sunset Sea. He smiled his thanks at her. 

* 

“Lannister called in sick,” Davos announced as Brienne arrived for work. She narrowed her eyes, thinking of dinner the previous night and wondering if he was embarrassed at having shown up and behaving like a decent human being. 

At the end of her shift, she called home to say she couldn’t make it in time for dinner. Brienne stopped and picked up carryout at her favorite Chinese restaurant before driving toward the beach. She arrived at Jaime’s trailer as the last streaks of daylight were swallowed by the night sky. 

She heard Honor barking and could hardly see where the dog stood on the sand, facing the ocean. “Honor! Come here, boy!” she called, but the dog only turned his head to look at her and bark. It was then she saw what he was barking at – something bobbing in the water. 

Brienne dropped the bag of food and shrugged out of her coat, leaving it on the sand. She ran toward the shore and the waves rushed at her. Suddenly, Jaime popped up and blinked the water out of his eyes. “What the fuck, Tarth?” he asked. 

She heaved for an easy breath and squinted against the saltwater burning her eyes. “I thought... it looked... the dog...” 

He shook his head and pushed across the water until he could walk up onto the shore. “You thought I was drowning?” 

Brienne followed after him, her soaked clothes hanging heavy around her body, weighing her down. “It’s rather cold for a swim, Jaime,” she said. “I was afraid you were... I saw the pills and the gun in your trailer before. I was worried.” 

Jaime turned to look at her, beads of water shining on his skin. The moonlight washed her in a soft, gray glow. He could see the shape of her small breasts and the outline of her nipples as her shirt clung to her skin. She had never looked so feminine and, he thought, almost beautiful. He wanted to be angry with her but only said, “Come on. You can borrow some clothes.” 

She followed him into the trailer and they both paused to look at the pills and the gun on the table, exactly where she had last seen them. Jaime ignored them and opened a drawer, selecting a pair of knit pants and a University of King’s Landing sweatshirt. He set the clothes on the bed and found a towel, handing it to Brienne and watching as she patted her face dry and rubbed it through her hair. “I’ll be outside,” he said, zipping a hoodie around his naked torso. 

Brienne emerged a moment later as he sat on a blanket on the sand. Jaime’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her wearing his clothes and he couldn’t help but smile. He sat down and waved her over. They were both quiet until he finally spoke. “I’m not going to kill myself. I think about it, yeah, but I don’t intend to do anything.” 

“Okay,” she said, not thoroughly convinced. She tugged the sleeves of the sweatshirt down over her hands. Brienne fidgeted, nervous to say, “I don’t blame you for feeling that desperate.” 

He looked at her. 

“I know what happened to your family.” 

Jaime flinched. “No, you don’t,” he said softly. 

“I read there was a fire and they-” 

“It was him,” Jaime told her. “Targaryen.” 

Brienne listened as he opened up to her, detailing his troubled relationship with his one-time mentor. They ended up sitting cross-legged on the blanket, facing one another, and she was rapt hearing about how Jaime caught on to Targaryen’s violent proclivities off the clock – setting fires, burning people for sport. “He knew I was about to report everything,” he explained. “So, he hurt me in the worst way possible. The night we fought, it started as me _wanting_ to kill him. Wanting revenge. No one will probably ever believe me, but I didn’t want to hurt him that way. I wanted him to have to pay for his crimes. But it was me or him.” He stopped, sniffling and wiping a tear from his cheek. “Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t just let him kill me, too.” 

She lifted her hand to gently cup her fingers over his knee. “I’m glad you fought him, Jaime." 

He lifted his gaze to her. He climbed up onto his knees. “Have your eyes always been this blue?” he asked. 

Brienne’s lips parted with a slight gasp of breath. 

Jaime lifted his hands to frame her face. He bent forward, and his lips were a surprisingly tender pressure against hers. Once she recovered from the surprise of it all, Brienne lifted her arms to wrap around his hips. The kiss intensified and he leaned against her, urging her back against the blanket. Their legs were awkwardly tangled as she stretched herself across the ground and Jaime settled on top of her. His hand slid beneath the sweatshirt she wore and his fingers skated along her rib cage, and she gasped into his mouth when his thumb brushed across her nipple. 

Honor began to bark and the two of them broke apart, Jaime rolling away as Brienne hopped to her feet. “I, uh,” she stammered. 

“I’m sorry. Uh, maybe...” 

She grabbed her coat and began jogging to her car, calling out, “Bye, Jaime.” 

* 

Jaime arrived on time for work but lingered on the parking lot. Every time he closed his eyes, and even when he didn’t, he could feel the warmth of Brienne’s mouth and skin. He never could have imagined she would be so soft. 

He walked into the precinct as he always did – glaring at the decorations and grousing about the music. He sat down at his desk with a casual, “Hey,” to his partner. She sat up straighter and replied in kind. The worst of the tension wasn’t even between he and Brienne; no one was hiding their belief that Jaime was responsible for the recent string of fires. 

Several hours in to the day, Gendry turned his radio up. _Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock.  
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring._ Jaime stood up and crossed the floor. He picked up the radio. Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun. Now the jingle hop- He slammed it onto the floor, stomped on it, and headed for the back exit. 

Brienne waited a moment before chasing him out to the alley. “You must really hate that song,” she said, trying to keep the mood from descending further toward anger and darkness. Jaime looked at her and she saw tears shining in his eyes. 

“It was Tommen’s favorite,” he revealed. 

She recognized the name as that of his youngest nephew. She clasped a hand to her chest. “Jaime. I’m so sorry.” 

He closed his eyes and was taken aback when he felt her long arms fold around him. He exhaled and dropped his head to her shoulder as he returned the embrace. 

* 

Brienne invited Jaime to her house for Christmas Eve dinner more than once, and he declined the invitation each time. He knew every time his phone rang throughout the day and into the evening that it was her – checking on him, maybe hoping to change his mind. He wanted to see her, and he wouldn’t have even minded seeing her father and Podrick, but he had too much to think about. They didn’t have any leads on the arson case and as usual, he’d been declared guilty. Jaime didn’t see how he could continue to work out of Evenfall. 

He carried a six pack of beer and a bag of chips out onto the beach. Jaime spread the blanket down facing the ocean and Honor curled up beside him. The sun was dropping lower in the sky and in the distance, Jaime could hear the sound of people celebrating the holiday together. 

Honor stirred beside him, jumping up and turning around to bark. Jaime craned his neck to see what had gotten the dog so excited. “Brienne,” he said as she walked from her car toward him. He stood and walked toward her. 

She was holding a manila envelope in her hand and said, “I’m not checking up on you. I just wanted to make sure you got your Christmas present.” 

Jaime narrowed his eyes. He took the envelope from her and opened it, reaching inside to reveal several photographs. “What am I looking at?” he asked. 

“A while ago I looked at the newspaper from the day after the Selmy fire. There was a reporter on sight pretty quick. I reached out to see if I could get copies of all the photos they took that day. Then I called around about the other fires.” Brienne paused and took a step closer to him. “Jaime, the same young woman appears at every single scene.” 

He looked closer. He hadn’t seen her in years, but the resemblance was unmistakable – she was Aerys Targaryen’s daughter. “Daenerys.” 

“I think she’s been trying to frame you.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

“She works at a bar a few miles from here. Want to take a drive with me?” 

* 

Christmas morning was bright and breezy. Jaime slept well after arresting Daenerys and was shocked to realize that spending another day on the beach sounded unappealing. 

He took a ride to the only twenty-four-hour drug store that was open and purchased red ribbon, a poinsettia plant, and a bottle of wine. Back home, he tied the ribbon around Honor’s neck and called for a cab, the two of them hopping into the backseat. 

Jaime had second thoughts as the cab pulled up in front of Brienne’s house, but he breathed through the anxiety. The dog ran up onto the porch ahead of him and by the time Jaime reached the steps, Podrick had spotted them through the window. 

The boy opened the door as he shouted, “Brienne! Jaime is here.” 

She appeared in the doorway and grinned at the sight of Honor and Jaime, holding a large poinsettia plant against his hip and a bottle of wine in his other hand. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said. 

“Merry Christmas,” Brienne replied. 

He handed her the bottle. “I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to say thank you and... I wanted to have something to give you in return.” 

“For what? I was just doing my job.” 

“It was more than that,” Jaime told her. “And I can’t thank you enough.” 

Brienne pushed the door open wider and Honor ran into the house. “Come in,” she told Jaime. 

He smiled and carried the plant inside, following her to the kitchen. He was greeted warmly and joined her, Selwyn, and Podrick at the table for cinnamon rolls and coffee. A familiar song began to play on the radio and Brienne looked at her brother and said, “Pod, will you turn that off?” 

_What a bright time, it's the right time, to rock the night away..._

Jaime looked at the boy and said, “No, leave it.” He looked at Brienne’s hand on the table and covered it with his own. “It’s fine.”


End file.
